A Way Out
by AB-maybecrazy
Summary: He didn't do it. Hank had to keep believing that. If Evan says he didn't do it, Hank had to believe him. However hard it got, with everyone and everything around them saying otherwise. WARNING: Mentions of self-harm and suicidal thoughts.


**I have absolutely no idea, where that came from, I barely know Royal Pains - mainly through fan fiction, actually - so all kinds of spoilers are unintentional. However, I seem to have a weakness for show's with brothers, brotherly bonding and brotherly concern, so this happened. **

**WARNING: Mentions of self-harm and suicidal thoughts!**

**I DO NOT OWN ANY ROYAL PAINS CHARACTERS OR STORYLINES!**

**No Beta, all mistakes are mine.**

Evan awoke in the middle of the night to a stabbing pain in his right wrist. Thinking he probably just hit the edge of his nightstand, he simply placed his slightly throbbing arm closer to his hip, too tired to wonder, why even that small movement seemed practically impossible. Slowly drifting back into the depth of much loved slumber, he was once again jerked back into awareness by yet another, if not worse stabbing sensation in his left wrist. That followed by the imperceptible sounds of footsteps at last managed to make him open his eyes. Of course he couldn't see anything since it was the middle of the night and he had long ago abandoned his batman-nightlight, he made to reach for his bedside lamp. Only now did he notice how much both his hands _hurt._ As he moved them slightly, he felt them to be quite sticky, as if they were lying in melted ice-cream. Come to thing of it, the did lie in something… something wet. With great effort, he finally managed to reach the top of his bedside table and blindly reach for the button of the antique lamp, that came with Boris' furniture inside Boris' guesthouse. Just as it illuminated Evan's room, did the metallic smell, of what the young man was soon to find out was blood, penetrated his nose. Indeed, when his eyes adjusted to the light and he lifted his head, to look at his now tingling hands, he found himself covered in his own blood.

Terrified, Evan jumped up in his bed, at least as far as his already weakened body allowed, throwing a small, yet unknown object of his bed. Searching his brain for what it could have been, he bend over, to see a bloody scalpel, of the kind his brother Henk always had in his medical bag, lying on the floor.

Looking back at his wrists, seeing the blood still pooling onto his covers, he finally spurred into action.

Mind buzzing, vision blurry, Evan crawled out of his bed, managed two steps on shaky legs, before exhaustion kicked in and brought him to his knees. His thoughts swirled in his head, as if they were thrown into a mixer, overlapping each other, each one telling him something else. He knew he needed help, he knew he had to stop the bleeding, he knew he should call an ambulance, he knew he should call Hank. Yet his mind kept penetrating him with questions. What happened? Is this real? is this a dream? was someone here? why can't he move? why can't he see? why couldn't he feel his hands anymore?

Finally, not being able to stay upright, he fell face front onto his bedroom floor.

„Hank." He wanted to scream, but it only came out like a pitiful whisper. Tears sprung into his eyes, as he tried again „Hank." but realized it would never be heard. Was this his end? Would he die here? „Hank!", he managed a bit louder, with a raspy voice. What would Hank think, once he found him here? Evan licked his lips and took a deep breath. „HANK!" He finally yelled. He wouldn't give up, he wouldn't leave Hank hanging. „HANK!" Whoever did that to him, for whatever reason, Evan R. Lawson would not give him the satisfaction he wanted. „Hank!" his voice started dying out again and desperation kicked back in, but the young man pushed it away, when he heard footsteps outside his door. He didn't care who it was, he didn't care if he was just hallucinating, he would NOT give up.

„Hank!" Finally, he lifted his head ever so slightly, to look at the blurry figure in the doorframe, that could only be his brother.

His brother the doctor, the lifesaver, the hero. He'd know how to help him, he'd make the pain go away and make everything better.

And suddenly Evan was floating. The pain was nothing but a dull throb. He heard his brother yell his name and tell him to hang on, but it was all muffled, as if his head was under water. He saw the light coming of his lamp like a little sun, coming closer and closer, as if it was trying to embrace him. It made the cold go away and the dark, so Evan didn't fight it. He barely felt Hank shaking him, wrapping his wrists tightly, feeling his neck for a pulse, stoking his hair… It was all just like a dream. A weird, random, but nice dream.

„Hank?", he whispered one last time, before the sun enclosed him and he just let go.

**I know it's not very long, but I found it a good place to stop. I plan on writing more though, so don't worry.**

**Let me know what you think, what you want to happen next, suggestions for a better title, etc. **

**Thanks already :)**


End file.
